Stag Night
by VivyPotter
Summary: "Harry tried to remember who had talked him into this. It was probably Malfoy, the little ferret." It's his stag night, and Harry Potter tries out pick-up lines. Oneshot, Harry/Ginny


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything and all rights go to JK!**

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Harry tried to remember who had talked him into this. It was probably Malfoy, the little ferret.

Harry Potter weaved his way through the heaving muggle pub, wrinkling his nose slightly at the choking stench of beer. Muggle alcohol isn't nearly so attractive after you've had a gulp of Firewhiskey. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Humiliated looked back uncertainly at his group of so-called 'friends'. Ron was grinning like crazy, the tip of his ears red with excitement. Harry shot him a glare - he wouldn't be so smug if _he_ was up here doing this.

"'Potter, one last bit of fun before you're tied down by married life.'" Harry mocked under his breath, fist clenched at his sides. "Well guess what Malfoy? I can't _wait_ to be a married man. At least Ginny won't make me do _this_."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. He was probably drunk, there was no _way_ he would be doing this if he was sober. Ginny would kill him. Harry winced as he imagined Ginny bearing down upon him, eyes flashing and wand raised. Although now that he thought about it, that image did funny things to his stomach (and other regions). He was probably a masochist. Ginny just looked so _beautiful _when she was angry, especially when she shrieked in rage and – yep, definitely a masochist.

Before Harry realised it, he was standing in front of a girl, probably a University student, who was downing shots like there was no tomorrow. Although once Ginny heard about it – and she undoubtedly would, as George was part of the Stag party – maybe there would be no sunrise for the Saviour.

Suitably depressed by morbid thoughts, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. The girl looked up, eyes unfocused and lipstick smeared. "Hullo, I'm Harry." He said. He'd better not give a last name , there was no way he'd want _any _possibly of this person finding him in a phonebook.

"'M Janine." She slurred, and it was the similarity to his fiancé's name that made Harry finally turn back. This was _not _right, he _loved _Ginny, and he would _no_t betray her by _chatting up_ some other girl–

And then Malfoy smirked in triumph.

Oh, it was _on_.

Harry turned back around, a determined smile on his lips. "Sorry to interrupt. Um, do you mind if I, er, try some… pick-up lines on you It's just, it was a dare and I-"

"Sh, sh, sh." Janine raised a pink nail to his lips and pouted in a way that she probably thought was attractive. "You c'n try _aaaanything_ on me."

"Um, right, so…" Harry cleared his throat and took out the cue cards (of _course_ Malfoy had prepared cue cards, he had probably been waiting for this for _months_), "So: 'Hagrid's not the only giant around here… if you know what I mean.'" Harry trailed off and blushed scarlet. He spun around yet again, only this time he glared at the half-giant who had the _audacity_ to _grin and wave_ at him.

Janine clearly had no idea what he was talking about, which was probably a good thing.

"Next one then." Harry shifted awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. "'My name may not be Luna, but I sure know how to… Lovegood.'" Harry looked up hopefully at the girl who he wasn't even sure was fully conscious – so wasn't this illegal or something? – but she just stared at him blankly. Harry gave her a lopsided grin and tried to explain. "Reference to my friend there… terribly inappropriate… moving on-"

"You have such _pretty eyes_. They're like… the sea under the moonlight." Janine gestured wildly, and Harry was sure that would have been rather poetic, if his eyes hadn't happened to be _green_. "Er, thank you." Harry almost reached out and patted her arm, but the short trail of dribble from her down her right cheek stopped him. "Er, next one: 'I'd like to get my basilisk into your chamber... of... secrets.'" The-Boy-Who-Was-A-Gullible-Idiot glanced back at his table, wondering how on earth they found out about that. Then his eyes landed on a sheepish-looking Weasley, and he understood _everything._

Harry scanned through the rest of them ('Do you want to head to the Shrieking Shack? We could do some shrieking of our own!') and winced at some of the more graphic ones ('I heard you were in Gryffin-whore because you let every wizard slither-in.'). Harry was convinced that Malfoy had written at _least_ half of these, due to most of them being based around the unfortunate relationship between the phrase 'slither in' and the Hogwart's House. Harry got to 'Let's do it Hippogriff style!' when he decided enough was enough. "Do you know what? I'm just going to go back, and yeah, so, bye." He told a drowsy Janine who let out a rather pathetic mewl as a reply, and promptly passed out on the bar.

Harry stalked back to his table, plonked himself down (ignoring Malfoy's snide comment of, "Merlin Potter, that was the funniest thing I've seen since weasel thought karaoke was a good idea!') and leaned heavily towards a snorting Oliver Wood.

"Hand me that pint. I'm going to get bloody pissed."


End file.
